Scarlet Favor
by Twila Starla
Summary: When a mission goes far from the normal ‘beat the bad guy, save the world’ routine, Kim and Ron must join forces with several allies to prevent world conquest by the hand of a psychopath villain, but what they find in themselves may be the real adventure.
1. Prologue: The Middle

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Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible, Disney does. I own my OCs, and this story, that's all!

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**Prologue **

_Every story is the same. Every plot the same twists. Every journey the same long roads. Every adventure the same battle versus good and evil, the fight for lives, love, honor, and courage. Every character conquering the same mountains, overcoming the same fears, and discovering the same strength from within. _

_To every great hero, there is an equal villain. To every great evil, there is stronger good. To every horrid night, there was a brighter tomorrow. To every sinful heart, there is a balance of compassion. _

_Every past is the same, the same love, the same heartbreak, the same high school, the same gain of power, and loss of family. The same rejection, the same turn from good to evil, or vise-versa. The same affiliations with Global Justice or the World Wide Evil Empire, and the same fueled hatred for another person, a school rival, an old boyfriend, and even a younger sister. _

_Every story is the same. And to every story, these elements apply. _

_The story I am about to tell you is all of these things, and many more, many branches of elements that would all but give the plot away. _

_In this story, there is love, hatred, heartbreak, and happiness. _

_In this story, there are moments where you will hate one character, then in the next chapter, feel compassion for the same person. _

_In this story, everyone has something to hide, even when you don't think they won't, and when you think they do, they don't. _

_In this story, there is magic everywhere, there are powers we have yet to tap into, strange creatures we have yet to meet, and unknown realms just outside our dimension, and connections to it anywhere you look, even in the smallest slice of suburbia. _

_In this story, there was no real beginning and there is no real end, except for what I tell you, because so many different stories link together to form this one. I believe thoroughly that the one story here though, began long before Earth, or maybe even the universe itself, no one knows for sure, and no one ever will. And its end, at a gravestone. _

_This is not the beginning of this story, nor is it the end; it is the middle, the very middle of a very large adventure more then a million years in the making. Why start in the middle? Because the beginning is not where the story began for our main hero, her story was much closer to your time, when this battle **truly **began. _

_But most important about this story is its six heroes, the six Guardians, all different in age, culture, personality, powers, and yet they learned to work as a team to defeat an ultimate evil. This was more then a usual hero-villain fight though, oh no, this was a war, and wars last long, sometimes too long. _

_I will begin when the problems first started. That dark and stormy night ten years ago, as so many stories begin with, the night I will never forget… _

_A young Anne Possible led her daughter though the streets of Middleton. It was late, and both mother and daughter had been out for hours, both were weary after the evening's events. Janice stopped for a moment and breathed in deeply, rubbing a thin hand on her bulging belly. She sighed; she shouldn't be running around, doing all this, as pregnant as she was. Janice recalled what had happened in hours before, but didn't want to. No, it was too painful to remember, her own had ruined too many lives in one night, why? That was the question she couldn't answer. _

_Kimberly was chilled to the bone and in pain as she clung tightly to her mother's arm. She had the same red hair as her mother, but bright olive eyes instead of blue. Her lip was bleeding; her teeth were crooked from the blow she'd taken. No doubt she would need braces. _

_A man run to the mother and daughter, he had short, brown hair that was beginning to gray in spots, and dark eyes. He met up with the pair and embraced them tightly. _

_"Anne, you two are okay," James said, Anne pushed out of the embrace roughly. _

_"James, we're fine," she said in a mellow tone of voice, "but the others…" _

_James' face turned serious. _

_"I made sure everyone got out okay, the only one that suffered injury was Kimmie and Jennifer herself." Anne sighed in relief at this comment. _

_"Now we can get back to Kimberly's training in peace." her comment made James' face go sour. _

_"No. You want to put her through the same thing we put Jennifer through." James said in a harsh tone of voice. _

_"Kimberly won't become her, I'll be sure of that," Anne replied softly. _

_"And I doubt she'll will be very happy to find out that Kimmie's taken the role she was supposed to have." James spoke like he hadn't heard her._

_"That's why she's going to prison, James." _

_"And she won't get out?" James asked bitterly, she didn't reply. "She'll want revenge and nobody will be there to stop her once she gets us out of the way." _

_"Kimberly will be there," Janice said, putting an arm around her daughter, "and Ronald, and Marisa, you know, Hector and Rebecca's daughter." _

_Kimberly felt scared. The thought of facing that girl again sent shivers down her spine. Her father pulled her away from her mother. _

_"They're not ready," James protested. _

_"But the prophecy said-" his wife began. _

_"Anne, enough with the prophecy! They can't do it; she's too powerful!" James said harshly. Kimberly held her hands to her ears in fright. _

_"But if we just take them to-" she said. _

_"No," James said. "I'm not going to do it again, not after tonight, Anne." _

_"But, James, how are we going to explain it to Kimberly when she comes of age?" she asked, her voice becoming more aggressive. _

_"You know, you sound just like your mother right now!" James had never truly raised his voice at his wife before.. _

_"Oh, really? Well-" her comment was cut short. _

_"Mommy! Daddy! Stop!" _

_Both parents broke their angry glares toward each other and looked down at James' leg. Kimberly was clutching it tightly, tears were streaming from her eyes, catching the blood off her lip and dripping it onto her already soaked clothes. Anne pulled her daughter into her arms and cradled her gently. She turned to her husband. _

_"Look at us, James, we've made it. You're a rocket scientist and I'm a- a brain surgeon with a few family secrets. We weren't ready for all this when we married; we were never prepared for any of it. I mean, when you found about my heritage, you didn't think our marriage would work," she laughed a little, but James' face was still sullen, so she continued talking. "My point is, that if we can get through all that, plus tonight's events unscathed, I think we can make a few more years of Meldoria work, just to get Kimberly the training she needs." _

_James sneered coldly."Hm, is that all you care about?" he asked. "You know, it doesn't matter how healthy or happy your child is, as long as its got power, you're happy. Well, Janice, be happy, because Jennifer's your perfectly, powerful child who tried to kill us all tonight! You must so proud!" _

_Her vision blurred. Anne felt her own tears streaming at that point, trying fight off the truth, that this was her fault. She turned to James with a look of hurt and rage. _

_Kimberly suddenly wiggled from her grasp and ran past them both, smiling. They watched as she rushed over to a young blonde haired boy and hugged him. Two people stood beside the pair, the boy's parents obviously. _

_The father walked over to the Possibles, and looked at James very seriously. He was a short man, with brown eyes that he hid behind a pair of glasses. _

_"You told her, then?" he asked. James nodded back at him. _

_"What are you talking about, Archie?" Anne asked roughly. The man turned to her. _

_"Anne, as much as it pains me to tell you this, we can't let the kids become exposed to their ancestry any more then they already have been, James, I , and MaryAnn agree on this," Mr. Stoppable said. _

_She gasped, then glared at James. _

_"You went behind my back and voted on this?" she hissed. She was angry and exhausted, so James backed away a little. MaryAnn, Archie's wife, walked over to them. Her short blonde hair caressed the rims of her glasses as she spoke. _

_"Anne, please. We know you've wanted Kimberly to follow in your footsteps since they told you, but after what happened tonight, it just can't be." Mrs. Possible's vision began going blurry once more. _

_"Now, lets go home," Mrs. Stoppable turned to her son, "Ronnie, come on." she said as she took Ron's hand and led him away. _

_"Bye," Ron said as he vanished down the street with his parents _

_"See you tomorrow," Kim called back. _

_Anne hung her head. _

_"It's really over, then." she sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. She took Kimberly's hand again as she, her daughter, and her husband headed home after a long night._

--

Mrs. Possible shook herself awake and sat up; the faded, old memories vanished from her mind quickly. She shakily took in the sights for a second and was able to deduct that she was back home, in her bedroom, her husband beside her, asleep, no longer angry with her, she was no longer angry with him. But then she had to be sure of something.

Mrs. Possible got up from the bed quietly, grabbed her robe, pulled it on, and crept out the door and into the hallway, she peered into the twins' bedroom; both were asleep in their bunk beds.

She walked a little farther down the hall, turned a corner and made her way up the stairway. Once at the top, she was met with a single door. She opened it quietly, then looked into Kim's room.

The young redhead lay fast asleep like, if not in a deeper sleep then, her brothers, Pandaroo wrapped in her arms. Her friend Monique was curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor, a purple sleeping mask over her eyes. They were supposed to be having a slumber party, but a late mission the night before, and several missions following that, had kept Kim awake for a while, so they'd gone to bed. She worked herself so hard sometimes, balancing school, cheerleading, home, and the save the world hobby in between.

At times, Mrs. Possible really wondered if she should let her daughter push herself this way, the way she, Janice Possible, used to push herself. Working harder and harder each day, because you're expected of it, because you're expected to be the best. Kim didn't know it, but she was more like her mother then ever these days. The only difference, she was doing this as a hobby, the hero stuff that is, and not as a forced birthright.

Now that she knew the kids were okay, Mrs. Possible tiptoed back into her bedroom and curled under the covers. It had only been a nightmare. _Just a nightmare, _she repeated under her breath. If only. Those memories were real. The unfortunate past of ten years ago. James almost never trusted her after that. But they'd been such a young couple then, married right out of high school, later learning that what makes a strong marriage is the trials we go through and survive together. She then realized just how long it'd been since those nightmares had haunted her. The last time she'd dreamed about that night…

Anne quickly got up again and rushed over to her vanity, pulled open a drawer, and began digging through old clothes frantically. She reached the bottom and a bright golden light beamed out, spreading into the whole room, causing Mr. Possible to stir in his sleep. Anne grabbed something from the drawer and the light went out, both her hands were closed over it as she pulled it out and held it over her folded legs. She looked at her husband, then the bedroom door she'd left ajar, then at her hands.

She opened them, the light glistened again, but only brightened on her face, its familiar gold glow reflected on her blue eyes. She recognized its warmth and beauty. The glowing sphere floated innocently, magically, over the palm of her hand. Anne watched as the little ball began to change shape, a small bump appeared on its right side, pointing down the hallway like a compass. The bump turned into a spike, and she watched as a faint glow shivered out of the point and snaked its way out the bedroom door.

Glowing ball still in her hand, she closed her fingers over it, stood up, walked over to the door, and opened it several inches come its former position. The golden glow flew across the dark hallway, slithering past the twins' room and swerving around the hallway, and up the stairwell. It was headed for the attic.

Anne was not surprised, but had hoped it would never come to this. Please don't let it come to this. She hurried back down the hallway and raced up the stairs, never minding if anyone heard her. She reached the top of the stairs and peered into Kim's room once again. Kim was still sleeping soundly, but one difference; the gold glow was surrounding her body as she turned over drowsily.

Anne watched her with a sullen face, then opened her palm, revealing the sphere, it had a second point coming in on the left side as the glow returned and the sphere shown even brighter then ever.

"So it's time then," she muttered to it. There was no reply. Anne closed her hand on the sphere.

_Secrets are kept, yes. But how long would it be before the truth came out? How long before Anne Possible would reveal her secret to her daughter? And how long would it take a certain villainess to break out of prison and concoct a revenge scheme?_

--

Yep, this is the re-cut of this story; I figure third times the charm. Sorry if this wasn't as good as it could have been, but it's just the prologue. This rendition will have a lot more detail, a lot less lyrics, and make a whole lot more sense. I'll also be cutting unnecessary stuff, and really be doing some heavy duty editing. Add some more explanation on Scarlet, some more flashbacks, and some more Team Possible and Shego scenes, you get the picture. Hopefully this prologue sounds better then the first, and I also put Pandaroo and Monique in for good measure. So what's the deal with the glowing ball, you ask? That will be answered in due time. Well, this should be interesting to rewrite completely, so wish me luck!

Btw, thanks for reviews from Ace Ian Combat, Longsworder, Darth Comrade, Arya SliverFlame, and RebelAtWork, who read and reviewed the first renditions of this.

If anyone didn't recognize it, I kinda sorta barrowed the whole Guardian thing from W.I.T.C.H., and there are a couple more elements I barrowed from the show, especially when it comes to the Guardian's powers and the name Meldoria. (i.e, the mystical city in the show is Meridian.)

Later days and please review!


	2. The Return

I don't own Kim Possible, which is owned by Disney. I, however, own my characters and this story.

Check out Cunning Ambitions by BladedDarkness for a read that is sure to blow your mind. Seriously, this girl is a very skilled writer and storyteller.

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**Book II: Chapter I: Return.**

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The shadows cascaded and bathed the ground in darkness as the moon rose over pale, gray clouds, the shining orb rounded fully like a milky colored playground ball. A tall, concrete building formed a perfect, long rectangular shadow over the soft, green grass and rocky shores that bordered a line between the island and the water, which lapped over the sands and boulders that cluttered along the small beach. The building was large in width and high in length, reaching forty feet from the roof to its foundation, and eighty feet across, taking up most of small land mass. Large, concrete bricks made up its outer layer, held in and together by thick layers of cement, each pale, white vein visible and glowing in the moonlight, the pattern only broken by the barred and electrified windows. The rooftop was blocked off with barbed wire and had several spotlights secured on the edges and around the top.

On the ground level, a cobblestone walkway went up the path to the building's iron, security-enforced door. Hung right above it was a plaque, the bronze letters written upon it gleaming, spelling out the words: Go City Asylum.

It was dark inside; every light was off and had been off for a while, and the only thing that served for illumination was the moon as its pale glow leaked through the bars of the cell windows, only to be cut off by the steel doors that kept the cell closed off. The metal, numbered plates that were nailed into each cell entrance reflected the bright beam of a flashlight back out on the outer hall, leaving holes in the darkness to reveal the concrete floors and wall that marched the outside of the prison.

The beam was pulled left of the plate as the guard moved away and closed the door of a neighboring cell. The automatic lock beeped twice and she pulled her hand away from the door handle. She moved her arm to her hip and lifted a small, black device from her belt, putting it to her lips. She pressed a bright, red button on the machine and there was a short buzz of static.

"Cell 1312 secure. Patient 522911, Electronique, is asleep." she spoke into the walkie-talkie in a smug, but tired voice, "and what a surprise," she muttered under her breath. There was more static on the radio, and a male voice barreled over the airwaves.

"Okay, good. One more cell and you're finished," the gruff voice said. A sigh of gratefulness escaped the young guard. She was just about to switch off the communicator when the commissioner continued in a cautious tone.

"And Margaret," she turned her attention back to the walkie-talkie at the sound of her name. "Be careful when you refer to these people by their villain names. The doctors here are attempting to rehabilitate them, we can't help with that unless…"

"We call them by their real names. I know, I know," Margaret finished exasperatedly, twisting her finger through her short brown hair. She leaned against the wall and sighed.

"I know it can be difficult to remember them all by anything other then their… respectable names." the commissioner added, using the word 'respectable' as loosely as possible.

Margaret rolled her eyes and straightened up from the relaxed pose. "Oh yeah, very," her sarcastic tone was thick. She began to make her way to the next cell. "Electronique, Evonca Minogue. The Mathter, Matthew Atler. Aviarius, Aries Aviary!" she shouted in the quietest way she could, listing a few of the patients that resided within the passing cells. A chuckle statically echoed over the radio waves.

"I see your point. Villains aren't very creative are they?" Margaret shook her head despite the fact that the commissioner couldn't see her.

"Not at all, sir," she spoke in reply, although she could argue with that statement to no apparent end. She'd only worked as a security guard at the asylum for mere months, but had lived in Go City all her life. She knew very well, possibly even first hand, just how creative villains could get. How else does one come up with the idea for a Flamingo of Doom? Margaret bit her lip hard and chewed on it for a second as the commissioner laughed again.

"Well, you go check on that last cell and then you can head home for the night." Margaret released her bottom lip and curved her mouth into a smile, thankful for the statement. One more, just one more cell, just one more mental case to check into, and she could leave this disoriented crackpot house for the night.

"Thank you, sir. Margaret out," she waited for the kindhearted 'goodnight' by the commissioner before running her finger over the red button again and pressing it down, there was another short break of static, then silence. She shoved the walkie-talkie back into her belt roughly, adjusted the buckle, and continued off to her final destination.

She traced her flashlight over the metal-framed door and stopped short as she approached it, grimacing softly. Set as the very last on this hall, she always checked this one last for a reason.

In the pale yellow beam of the flashlight, a dark blue glow swirled from all corners of the metal, forming a clear shield over the dull gray. A small fly suddenly buzzed over Margaret's ear, and she swatted on impulse. The buzzing fluttered lightly as her hand came down upon the fly, but it escaped death and took off, the annoying sound beginning to fade, but it wasn't until the stupid little bug flew straight for the shield that Margaret saw the creature for the first time. She watched reclusively as a strike of electricity surged over the glow, and the small winged bug fell to the ground, dead. She looked down at the creature and cringed. She hated this cell. Hated it. Not that she didn't understand why they had it set up this way or anything, it was just… this cell always gave her the creeps. Not just with its electric force field that proved fatal to anything, or anyone, who touched it, it was the whole place.

She moved her flashlight away from the fly's corpse and to the numbered plate nailed at the center of the door: Cell 1313. Patient 522912.

She shivered again. Global Justice had set up the force field on protocol, for the patient's own safety. At least that's what they claimed. She believed it was just for safety of the _residents_ here, guards like herself, other villains and mental patients, and anyone else who entered this building.

Was the woman really that dangerous? Margaret thought 522912 the most mysterious of all who were resident here. No one knew much about her, or why she'd ended up in the asylum. No history had been given from Global Justice (and she had checked, by _accidentally_ slipping into the computer room as a detour on her coffee break and breaking into the patient files); no signs of drug usage, violence, or abuse appeared visible or relevant to the young lady's profile or insanity. She was just there; she'd been there for a while too. Ten years of solitude claimed some of the older guards who remembered the pretty, teenaged girl who was dragged in here by G.J. _Crazy, that's the only word I'd use to describe her then. They had four agents escorting her, more like forcing her, in. She was screaming and swearing, kicking and clawing at them like a wild animal. I certainly thought she would kill one of them; _the words of Commissioner Delroy came back, his answer to the time she'd first asked about 522912.

But the one thing that scared Margaret the most about 522912, were her eyes. They were some of the deepest, most beautiful and hypnotic eyes she's ever seen in her life, but the were also very frightening. They were almost demonic, like something inhuman lurked there, waiting for someone weak and unsuspecting to enter her domain…

Margaret forced herself to stop before she began freaking out. She stroked her hair and shook her head. What was she doing? She was being silly, supposing all this for a person she barely knew. Highly speculated guesses and past events are what made up her theory. 522912 may have had trouble in the past, but that didn't effect who she was now, right? Right, of course! The young woman might very well be close to a breakthrough for all she knew, as easy going as she was, compared to others here. She had conversed with her before, and she sounded almost human, nice even, she could go into the real world and blend in perfectly with the public. If anything crazy had been within that woman, she had lost it to the years caged between the same four concrete walls. Hopefully…

Besides, the longer she stood here and considered the insanity of 522912, the later she would get home.

With a reassuring thought in her head, she swept her fears aside for later consideration and walked up to the cell with an ebullient, careless step. Unnatural for a girl in an asylum, standing in front of the supposed most dangerous cell within it. She stopped at the concrete boarder that surrounded the force field, her fingers raised in attention over the small, black keypad that had been embedded into the wall, her other hand raised the flashlight's beam over the device.

Her yellow nail polish flashed under the light as she quickly pressed against several seemingly random numbers along the keypad. Two high pitched beeps and she watched quietly as the force field disintegrated into the floor, leaving the metal door bare. Two more beeps and the door _swished _as it slid aside, revealing the inside of the cell in all its shadowed glory. With a deep breath of satisfaction, Margaret smiled and stepped forward, and entered the cell with a quicker, more confident pace then most would have.

It had a typical setup; a plain, semi-comfortable bed, big enough for a normal sized adult, the gray and white sheets and blanket were messy and undone. A small sink had been bolted into the far wall, next to the toilet, both a pasty white and grime covered from the years. The floors were concrete and worn, and wet, Margaret noted as she watched a small puddle form and twist across the floor with every drip that escaped. She couldn't place where the water was coming from, but supposed it to be one of the bad pipes that had broken or leaked. The asylum was old, and at some point it had to start falling apart. She had been watching as it crumbled in on itself even more so then the patents here, and often wondered what Go City would do when the place became too unmanageable.

Margaret refocused herself and whirled her flashlight around to the back of the room, scanning the gray walls carefully. She wasn't in her bed, the young guard had noticed, that meant she was by the window, staring out at the blackened sky and wickedly shimmering stars through metal bars and another deadly force field, eyes filled with the sorrow and longing of a stray puppy. Margaret's compassion kicked in, always such a sad face, yet the woman gave her the chills. She really didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or be afraid of her, or maybe she did both? Whatever, not her problem right now.

The beam of light traced the ramparts to the window.

Nothing.

Margaret jerked the light backwards; just make sure wasn't seeing things. The young woman took several shaky steps to the window and stood where she'd expected 522912 to be, her mouth agape.

She wasn't there.

Margaret felt her body tense up. She grabbed the flashlight with both hands, holding like a weapon, and swung it to each side of the room, searching frantically. Once she had made a circle, she stopped, facing the slightly open door. Still nothing, she was alone in the cell.

Margaret looked at the door and raised an eyebrow. _If not in here, maybe out there_. She lowered her arms and straightened up, a now determined, more watchful look in her eyes.

She peeked out into the empty hallway, checking both ends quietly, then walking them back and forth. Making the round, she returned to the room with a sigh. Nothing. Looks like she'd ran off while her back was turned. Margaret grasped for her walkie-talkie and switched it on carefully.

"Hey, Commissioner, we've got a problem," she spoke seriously.

"Margaret? I thought you were finished!" Delroy said with surprise.

"Hm, I thought so too," she muttered with slight sarcasm and looked out to the door. "It looks like 522912 made a break for it."

Delroy grunted gruffly, but even from over the radio, Margaret could tell he was anxious about the situation. "Okay, stay where you are, Margaret, she may still be in the area. I'll send out a couple guards to check the hallways and grounds."

She nodded again. "Rodger that, sir, but I don't think I'll be of much help in here, I checked whole room. She's nowhere to be foun-"

A pair of bright, red eyes opened wide and appeared from the ceiling, watching Margaret with a most demonic gleam. Margaret must've felt it too, they were the last things she saw before the eyes took on a human shape and lunged down from their place on the ceiling, right toward her.

A sudden gasp and _thud _echoed over the walkie-talkie. Delroy heard the device hit the floor with a sharp clack as the plastic contacted with the cement. He nervously got up from his black leather chair, standing in front of the twenty televisions that gave view to all the security camera positions within the building. He looked them over quickly before lifting his walkie-talkie again.

"Margaret, are you okay? I've lost visual…"

"Margaret? Margaret, what happened? Answer me!" he continued, his voice coursing though the small radio before a flat heel was placed over the speaker. The foot pressed down hard on the device, muffling Delroy's screams. It jiggled under the pressure, but the heel only pushed harder, to a point where the walkie-talkie couldn't bear it. The black plastic casing shattered suddenly, sending semi-sharp pieces over the concrete floors.

She lifted her foot away for the device, revealing more broken plastic, exposed, colorful wires, and a speaker now crushed at the center. Silence. She placed hand on her hip and smiled deviously.

"She'll call you back," muttered the young woman venomously, running a hand through her dark red hair.

The unconscious form of Margaret lay a few feet from where the woman stood. She groaned in pain before falling back into a deep sleep. The woman smirked in pride, then strode forward, stepping over Margaret, though coming close the smashing the girl's hand with her foot.

"Thanks for the breakout, kid," she spoke sarcastically, stepping out of the cell casually and grabbing the metal door, she swung it in her hands, looking at Margaret one last time, she grinned evilly before slamming the door shut. The automatic lock beeped twice, and the force field went up, electricity swiveling through the blue as it activated. She snickered and gave an ironic wave, to both the cell and the guard. _All too easy, _she thought

The woman had her hand propped against the doorframe, still gloating, when a clatter of footsteps filled the hallway. Six more security guards were filing in a disorientated group, chasing toward her. Most of the group was fairly young, like the one before them, each armed with a simple handgun. She rolled her eyes; _they should really get some more experienced people to work this place._ But she couldn't risk it, she was unarmed and rather tired from hanging off the ceiling all that time, even if they were just amateurs, she couldn't take them all, not now anyway. She checked their distance, more then twenty feet away. She nodded, glad for the long hallways, and began checking other doors for some sign of an exit.

Closets and offices, even a break room, but nowhere seemed very escape-ish. She was trapped. She sneered and slammed the door to another dead end, quickly turning her attention back to the guards. Ten feet away, they were slower then she thought, but definitely getting closer then comfort liked. She swore and ran for the closest, and thankfully lockable, door, shutting it behind her.

She listened carefully, her back against the door, as the guards pounded on the other side, swearing colorfully. She gritted her teeth in annoyance and slowly lifted a hand over to the bronze lock on the side of the door. Quickly, she flipped it to the side with one finger. Relief pulsed through the villainess and she stepped away. An evil, little smile curved across her face as she heard one guard's rage as he tried to kick down the metal door, only to stupidly fail and end up with a stubbed, perhaps broken, toe. A chuckle forced itself from her lips; she enjoyed the pain of others and laughing at their expense.

She wheeled around and observed her area carefully. _Curses,_ she thought. Another dead-end. But perhaps not as bad a dead-end as she thought. As she strode forward, she found herself passing row upon row of hanging clothes, colorful, strange clothes, at that. She raised an eyebrow and grabbed one outfit from the rack, observing. The brown, feather looking cloak and clawed, orange gloves seemed familiar somehow. She looked at the spot where the outfit had been, then traced her eyes downward. Sure enough, there lay a pair of large, orange boots made to resemble a bird's feet. She gazed back at the costume she clutched, suddenly noticing a small scrap of paper tied to the hanger. Without a thought of consent, she ripped the paper off and dropped the outfit to the ground. Continuing to ignore the growing number of guards outside, she read:

**Costume 5195**

**Property of Patent 1254, Aries Aviary. Villain I.D: Aviarius.**

She sneered as she finished. Figures, why hadn't she recognized it as his?

Lowering the paper, she realized that it wasn't the only one she recognized. All of these outfits, every single one of them… were villain's costumes! She turned around and scanned a nearby rack, locating and pulling out the Mathter's bright green and purple attire, his 'M' beanie hung from the ceiling along with other choice hats formerly owned by villains. She was surprised that they kept all these after criminals were tried and jailed, but quickly her surprise melted to victory. If they kept all these, then that meant…

She quickly began checking each rack and article, pulling each one apart at great speed and annoyance. The young villainess soon found that they were organized by patent number, and followed the trail of records three rows down, fifteen outfits in. She stopped and quickly split the row in half. She smiled victoriously upon locating it. Alone, in the middle of the rack, there it was. The young woman pulled the hanger down, quickly cradling the smooth, black bundle of fabric in her arms like it was a child. Smiling, she opened her arms after a moment and held out the clothing, examining it closely.

A long, lanky jumpsuit draped off the coat hanger, the fabric was stretchy and form fitting, and shaded a deep black. A long, sweeping cape hung off the shoulders, matching the color of the jumpsuit. Gray veins threaded through the outfit, highlighting the shoulders, chest, and parts of the legs, which reached down to the ankles. She brushed off dust from the clothing, revealing more lines of gray. She felt down to the stomach and ran her hand over a jet-black utility belt; a red button was situated in the middle.

She pulled it off the coat hanger and draped the jumpsuit over her left arm with a strangely honest, but discomforting, smile, then looked back at the rack. Her crimson eyes searched the small area carefully. She quickly reached up to the higher shelf that sat above the clothes, felt around a second, then clasped her free hand around something and pulled it back down.

A pair of black gloves settled limply into her fair skinned palm, but the fingers were strangely bent into a clawed position, as if wires were set into them. She took one and slipped it onto her left hand, as if to make sure it still fit right. The cuffs were long and wide and the tips were an inch or two longer then the fingers themselves.

Obviously satisfied, the young woman raised the gloved hand, the fingers still bent into the battle ready pose, and brought it down on the rack of clothes, slashing across several of the outfits and then up into the metal bar.

There was a wild, shredding noise as her fingers sailed over the clothing, tearing the outfits in two and leaving mangled halves on the coat hangers and concrete floor. The bar that held to clothes up suddenly creaked and slid awkwardly, then suddenly hit the fabric littered floors with a resounding _bong_. Coat hangers and the remaining outfits slipped down on the lopsided bar.

The woman flexed the clawed glove with satisfaction, her evil smile growing with pride. Still as deadly as before, though they had dulled since she'd last used them, they'd have to be sharpened soon, but they were still weapons worth using. She thought back to the years before, that far off past that had placed in this joke of a prison, to the last time she had worn her gloves, her second skin claws that had been made with the jumpsuit. The whole ensemble, save for the cape, was designed after the superhero group, Team Go's, outfits, more specifically Shego's.

Her eyes narrowed and she sneered at the very thought of that name, like it was a disgusting and deplorable word. _Shego, _she thought again and shuddered. She remembered her from her childhood and thought of her as the most undeserving little witch, a statement she believed painstakingly. She ran an index finger over her lips and twisted them into an awkward snarl. Last she remembered; Shego and her brothers had formed that ragtag superhero team. That had happened some time after she'd left the city, but the memories of articles in the morning paper and huge alerts on the news that continued through that in entire day, all on the mysterious and devastating comet crash, were hard to forget. Undeserving, they all were, every single one of them. Powers like those were not to be handed to buffoons and children. She could've handled all four Go Team Glows with ease.

How long ago had that been anyway? Ten to twelve years at most, time was still somewhat useless to her after imprisonment, she didn't care anyway. They probably weren't children anymore; they all had grown up like her. _That is if that comet didn't render Go City's gods immortal,_ the thought came with disgust, they were probably still holding Go City's villains at bay, by the looks of her fellow residents. She tiredly shook her head in disappointment. Villainy wasn't what it used to be.

She pondered on that statement and looked down at her jumpsuit, rubbing the smooth fabric between her gloved fingers. A devious and smart smile crept onto her face, _that's all_ _about to change though. Ten years since they stuck me here, it's time to finish what I started._

--

Commissioner Delroy rushed down the asylum hallway, curses quietly streaming from his mouth as he approached the escaped convict's cell, ten well-armed men trailing behind him. His short, auburn, gray highlighted hair plastered against his sweat-slicked forehead, he feared the very worst of this situation, his patrol officer had been taken out, and six others had reported to trapping the villainess in the Costume Hold, where she had access to all manner of weaponry. Brilliant, just plum perfect.

"Help! Let me out of here!" the female voice echoed through the halls of the prison hold, accompanied by the sound of fists beating against metal, forcing Delroy's adrenaline up as he sped ahead of the men, racing to the escaped villainess' cell. Unlike Margaret, his fingers were much faster on the keypad, and within mere seconds, the force field again dropped and the door swished open, leaving Margaret nothing to hit or lean onto.

The young woman stumbled out with surprise, the pressure she had been placing on her effort to escape now sending her into the nearest wall.

Delroy winced to himself as Margaret straightened up, rubbing the growing bump on her forehead.

"I meant to do that," she mumbled between groans of pain.

"No time for foolishness," Delroy spoke, his voice all business as usual. "We've gotta stop that woman before she creates more of a mess then she's worth." With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jet black hand gun, then took off back the way he came, gesturing for the back-up group and Margaret to follow.

The young female officer exchanged a quick glance with one of the men, faintly smiled, then took off after the commissioner.

As soon as Margaret had caught up with the running Delroy, she couldn't help but ask a couple questions.

"So what's with the muscle?"

At first, Delroy was confused by her words, then caught her meaning as she motioned her eyes toward the backup men quickly following them.

"Global Justice agents, showed up about five minutes ago," he spoke, already short of breath from running.

"It's that bad, huh?" Margaret was mentally smacking herself over her earlier thoughts. So much for that theory.

"Oh yeah!" Despite his gasping, Delroy suddenly raced ahead of the much younger woman, swiftly turning the next corner.

She watched with amazement, slowing herself a little. _Gotta be all the caffeine, _she thought, reminding herself of all those cappuccinos he drank in order to pull the night-shift.

From around the corner, there was a sudden blasting sound, then a crashlike the sound of metal hitting concrete, followed by fear-filled screams that matched the voices of her fellow officers. Instinctively, she braced herself against the wall. The GJ agents, on the other hand, did not hesitate. They rushed past her, mysteriously silent as though they were ghosts instead of men.

"Drop your weapon and surrender now!" Delroy's gruff voice shouted over the chaos.

Reaching into her weapon's holster, Margaret produced a gun similar to the commissioner's. Holding close to her cheek, she channeled every thought in preparation to fight, letting her every heavy breath relax her, hoping to let go of her nervousness like she'd been trained to.

With a final heave of her chest, Margaret held her breath, closed her eyes, sent off a prayer for luck, then lurched herself off the wall, wheeling around the corner.

She stood there, holding the gun in both hands, fingers wrapped around the trigger, a sharp but fearful gleam in her eyes. Delroy was standing several feet away from her, in a similar position, except he held his weapon with one, well-trained arm. He'd done this before, unlike Margaret. She knew how to work a gun, this was just the first time she'd ever gotten to use it in battle. _And what a great time to learn_, she thought dryly.

The Global Justice agents were in front of the pair, all on one knee and armed with slightly different, and quite large looking, guns, they formed a barrier of sorts. It was apparent that formations like this were practiced to the point of perfection.

It was the only thing that was perfect about the scene. Destruction lay before the small group, the Costume Hold's door (and the walls surrounding it) had been blasted out, leaving a pile of dusty concrete and twisted metal blocking the rest of the hallway. Unconscious (and possibly dead) bodies of the first brigade lay buried beneath rubble and thrown against walls.

And standing on the very top of the disaster was the villainess who caused it all, her back turned on them.

Right away, Margaret noticed that she had changed clothes. Gone were her ugly asylum garbs, and in their place was a glamorous, form-fitting black jumpsuit and silky cape, her long red hair pulled into the high ponytail that brushed against her back.

She just stood there, one gloved, and now clawed, hand on her hip, the other clasping something, most likely the thing she'd used to break out.

Now Margaret had always gotten bad vibes from that girl, but from her spot above them, she seemed to have gained a more confident, more threatening air, not anything like the freaky but calm, and almost sane woman Margaret had come to know.

When the villainess finally turned around, the whole group tensed up a little. She was much better looking now, surprisingly stunning even, Delroy brought himself to think as he watched her from over his weapon, with those striking curves and a lovely face. _How had she cleaned herself up like that? _

The only thing that threw her look off was her devilish smirk and the psychotic gleam in her crimson eyes.

"Like the costume change, Comish'?" she asked Delroy in a voice that was suddenly more venomous then earlier, she had noticed his gawking expression.

_I'll give her props, _Margaret thought, _she's a good actress._

"You know, I wasn't sure if I could still make the whole catsuit look work after so long," spoke the young woman, starting to make her way back down from the rubble, her two-inch heeled boots clacking across the broken concrete.

With her free hand, she grabbed the edge of her cape, waving it over her arm like a vampire, "but you're right, I look incredible!"

Her vainglorious comment set Delroy back into his right mind. With a growl, he raised his hand gun so it was pointed straight at her.

"I said drop the weapon, and stay where you are!" he shouted, showing little to no fear of the woman's wrath.

The villainess seemed unimpressed with his orders, then she smiled evilly, in way that made the commissioner stiffen a little.

"You first," she said, raising her other hand, in which laid a small, multicolored remote control. It didn't take much for him (or Margaret) to recognize The Mathter's Calu-laser.

"Scarletina, don't you dare!" Delroy screamed as she stabbed a button with her thumb.

She must've set it on some sort of knock out setting, because a second later, the heroic group was out cold, and Scarlet was free at last.

--

Thanks to reviewers Rpgking7, Longsworder, Jeriddian, Darth Comrade, Arya MageFire, dartblade, and Ace Ian Combat, and thanks to all those silent readers! The first chapter did decently, over 100 hits so I can't complain. Not that it matters; I love this story either way

And a second thank you to Ace Ian Combat, for inspiring me to finish this at last.

Sorry for the extreme lack of update, I got tied up with the new chapters of PoTC and have spent my free time, when I'm not doing school, juggling writing that and planning how I'll rewrite this. Rest assured, the next chapter will be along soon and detail the goings-on with Kim and Ron, as well as the other Guardians. I felt this chapter was a bit rushed, sorry if it was. I needed to get this finished after over five months of waiting.

Any grammar, spelling, etc. errors, please point them out, and I shall fix them.

I would also like to thank everyone who nominated the original versions of Scarlet Favor for a very nice five categories in the Fannie's, I'm very grateful!

**Next Chapter:** Six Guardians


	3. The Mysterious Possible Family

Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible or any of the characters affiliated with it. I do own Scarlet, Corinthia, Toragoni, the planet Meldoria and most of the people living there, so quake in fear, you mortal fools! Mwahahaha!

Oh, sorry... um, read on!

**Note:** Due to the big reveal of Mrs. Possible's real name in Graduation, her name has been changed from Janice to Anne, as canon says. I have also gone back and revised her name in earlier chapters.

--

Book II: Chapter II: The Mysterious Possible Family.

--

Sunrise had taken far too long for the sleepless, disturbed Anne Possible, but eventually it came, slowly. She didn't wait for it, and began her morning work when she finally got sick of lying in her bed, watching the digital clock on the night stand. From five-o-clock in the morning onward, she cleaned up the house, did laundry, made an unusually large breakfast for her family. Anything to keep her mind from last night's little adventure.

She sighed as she began pouring her husband's coffee, noting that the coffee pot's clock read seven now. Everyone would be up soon. And she could not keep her discovery a complete secret, but how would she tell-

"Good morning, Anne!" Mr. Possible jovially greeted, now fully dressed for work, adjusting his tie. She put down the coffee pot and grinned in response, highlighting the bags under her eyes. James seemed to have noticed. He came to her side and kissed her lovingly on the cheek, then picked up his coffee mug and walked away.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, seating himself at the breakfast nook and blowing at the wisp of steam that escaped from his cup. His eyes widened when he saw the oversized platter of waffles set before him, but decided to stick to his first question.

Anne bit her lip. "Not exactly," she muttered, pouring herself a cup, her third one this morning.

"That would explain all the cooking," Mr. Possible commented with a smile, gesturing at the table.

Anne couldn't help but giggle at she sat herself next to him and took a sip from her mug . He always knew how to make her laugh.

"Well, I had the time," she said casually. Mrs. Possible took a second and looked into her coffee, as if it was mystic pool of answers and caffeine. _I wish, _she thought dryly. Maybe now was as good a time as ever to explain her findings to her husband.

"James," she started, slowly but seriously, quickly catching his attention. "About me being up all night, there's something you should know about..."

"'Morning!" There was no mistaking Kim Possible's voice. The young redhead walked into the kitchen, still wearing her pajamas, stretching every sleepy muscle in her body and stroking her messy hair. No glowing, no yellow.

For once in her life, Anne wished her daughter had decided to take her time with getting up for school. _It will have to wait_ _until the kids are out of the house then, _she noted to herself before smiling at daughter.

"Morning Kimmie! How did the slumber party go?" Typical question. Kim didn't need to suspect, much less know, about last night, not yet anyway.

"There was a lot more slumberin' then partyin' going on, Mrs. Dr. P," Monique spoke as she entered behind Kim, styling a pair of red pajamas, her curly, black hair braided into two pigtails.

She smiled as she came to Kim's side, the redhead shot her friend a joking, dirty look, but Monique was too distracted by the delectable looking breakfast to notice it.

"Aw, Mrs. Possible, you didn't have to do all this. Looks great," she said, sitting down on the other side of the table and grabbing a plate from off a nearby stack of china.

"Thank you, Monique!" Anne said casually as she watched the young woman set several waffles before her. It was always nice to have your work appreciated. She turned to her daughter, "Kimmie, would you turn on the TV, I wanted to see the news."

Kim nodded politely, then walked over to the kitchen counter and flipped on the small television her father had set up a year ago. The screen flickered to life as she hit the channel change a couple times before Tricia Lapowski appeared, standing in the middle a familiar street, with tall, bright blue buildings as a backdrop. It took Kim a moment to realize that it was Go City, she stepped back so the others could see.

"Yes, it seems for the first time in a long time, the impenetrable fortress that is Go City Asylum has been cracked, by one of its patients," Tricia said in her deep, over-cliched reporter voice as she began walking farther down the street until you could see the asylum's island from across the bay. "This asylum is known for holding some of the town's worst and most disturbed criminals. Examples in include Aviarius, The Mathter, and the formerly good Electronique, who's invention backfired and reversed her personality for a short time."

_So that's what happened to her,_ Kim thought absent-mindedly as she picked up a green apple from the table and bit into it, sending juices down her mouth and chin.

"The escapee? Not one of Go City's top villains, but a long-time female patent brought in on claims of insanity, says Commissioner Delroy. Though not given an exact name, the commissioner has warned citizens of the fair city to steer clear of this young woman, as she is armed and dangerous. This is the most recent picture of the convict."

A blurry, black and white mug shot took over screen. The woman, from what Kim could tell, was pale, peachy skinned, with a thin but well built frame, long red hair, and doey but nice eyes. It was apparent that the picture was a couple years old, she looked about eighteen there.

Something made Kim feel sick about it, and she couldn't quite place why. The woman seemed... familiar in some way, like a face you see in an old dream from your childhood.

Too busy with own thoughts, the young redhead failed to see her parents' nervous, frightened even, expressions at the story that was unfolding before them. Anne looked up at her husband with wide eyes, like crystal pools of worry.

"James..." she breathed with shock.

"I know," he whispered, "after they leave, okay?"

Anne nodded in response, but couldn't shake off that general feeling of fear.

"Everything alright, Mrs. Possible?" Monique asked, suddenly distracted from her breakfast by the strange behavior of her best friend's parents.

Anne tried her best to put on a comforting smile. "Everything's fine, Monique, just some family business, nothing to worry about," she said softly as James nodded, smiling as he put an arm around his wife's shoulder. He looked over at the watch on his wrist as he did so.

"Oh, what you look at that! Gotta get to work! Testing some new rocket fuel today!" he exclaimed suddenly. Mrs. Possible stood so he could get up from the table and nodded.

"I'm gonna have to get going too, two operations before noon today. Don't want to be late!"

James stood up and put his arm on her shoulder as the left the kitchen together. "I can give you a ride to work in you want, honey."

Anne smiled, a little over obviously, "that's be great, James!"

And with that, they were gone.

Monique watched with a perplexed expression, unsure what to make of the Possibles and their... bizarre actions, more bizarre then usual anyway. She turned to Kim, who was still transfixed on the news report.

"I know I've seen that face before..." Kim mumbled, her apple finished, she had tossed the core in the garbage and now had her index finger on her lips, halfway biting it as she stretched her mind for answers.

"Hey, Kim, did you just see your parents? They were acting a 10.9 on the freaky scale," her friend asked, standing behind her as she did so.

Kim shook her head. "Hmm- uh, what?" she spoke as though awakening from a dream. "Uh, no Monique, I didn't notice."

Her best friend twisted her mouth around and raised an eyebrow. Had everyone in this family lost it this morning? She sighed exasperatedly and walked off, mumbling something about getting dressed. Kim nodded back and said she'd get ready in a minute, then bumped up the volume on the TV as the last of the report reeled in.

"...sighting of this young woman are to be reported to the authorities immediately-" Tricia stopped and pressed down on her earpiece, listening carefully to it, a look of focus in her eyes. After a minute of almost inaudible 'uh huhs' and small nods, she turned back to the camera with the usual fervor.

"An update from the mayor of Go City has just come in. According to his report, Team Go has been alerted of the escapee and is searching for her as we speak."

"This is Tricia Lapowski reporting." Upon hearing those words, Kim reached over and hit the power button of the television, smiling softly. Ever since she'd first met them a year ago, Team Go had really become a great assistance in keeping some of the villains out of her hair. Sure, they were pretty bumbling at times, but for the most part, they were efficient in handling bad guys like Aviarius and The Mathter. Their villains. Go City was safer for it too, and it wasn't past her to lend a helping hand to them.

She imagined Hego had jumped at the opportunity to finding this girl. Ever since the Electronique deal, things had gotten pretty quiet in Go City. Team Go didn't have many good foes left after that, none that weren't still locked up. This would at least give them a little bit of excitement.

_That gives me the day off, I guess, _Kim thought, praying that the Kimmunicator would stay silent for the rest of her afternoon as she ventured up to her room, barely aware of the fact her parents had just left together, deep in conversation as James started the car.

"We knew this would happen," James said anxiously, grabbing the top of the steering wheel.

Anne nodded. She had slid into the passenger's seat, looking down at her lap as she thought to herself.

"What do we do?" he asked, almost rhetorically. But he knew Anne had the answer.

Mere seconds passed before she looked up at her husband, seriousness gleaming in her eyes.

"Start getting ready," Anne stated in a whisper. "We can't hide this much longer, James. If... _she's_ free, it won't be long before she starts picking up where she left off, and Kim _will_ get involved, whether we want it or not. All we can do..." she heavily sighed, "is stay up to date and start prepping Kim and Ron."

James seemed both shocked and disappointed. The redheaded woman sighed again and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, James, but we can't live a lie anymore."

–-

A cascade of orange, yellow, pink, and purple glows spilled over the white blanket of snow as sunrise reached over the mountaintops and through the cold valleys, making every snow flake shine and reflect the strands of light with beauty that was irreplaceable.

The young woman wasn't there to admire the scenery though. She was never one to get up at the crack of dawn and go out in frigid weather just to watch the sunrise, too cheesy for her taste. She brushed a strand of short, hot pink hair away from her equally pink eyes and ruby colored lips, clearing the view of her smooth, peach-colored face.

A cold breeze swept over her sides, which were exposed thanks to her red crop top. Her first instinct told her to react some way; shiver, wrap her arms around hereself, but she fought it, finding the cold bracing and willing herself to ignore it.

When she finally reached a small clearing, the girl stopped and reached behind her back, grabbing what looked like a long, wooden pole from the makeshift strap held across her shoulders. She twirled it like a baton over head, then brought the staff down in front of her in a battle-ready pose, her pretty face twisted into an expression of pure focus.

The next five minutes were spent practicing advanced battle moves with the staff. Spinning it, twisting it over and under her body, and striking the air around her, as if fighting an invisible enemy. It was apparent that the young woman had been training these moves for many years now, the balance and skill in her moves was unmatched. It was also apparent that she was well aware of her skill, you could tell by smug smile on her face as she moved with the grace of a ballet dancer.

Another twirl of the staff and she stopped. Her breathing was normal, as though she had barely done anything just then. She looked down at her hands, then dropped the staff, letting it hit the snow with a mushy _plop_.

She flipped her hands over, revealing her pale, cold palms. The girl smirked.

"Time to turn up the heat," she said, her voice cold but confident.

And with that, her hands were suddenly engulfed in two bright orange flames.

As practice resumed, the impressive staff work was suddenly outshone by the spectacle created with the fire. She flipped, spun, punched, and kicked, the flames following her every move like an orange ribbon, making her already amazing fighting skills very dangerous. The fire brought a frightening glow on her smug face, giving her an air of viciousness and true power.

Spinning again, she brought out one of her hands, opening her palm completely. The flame seemingly died out, and then it reappeared, much smaller and rounder then before. She flexed her hand and the fireball grew suddenly. The young woman reeled back her arm like a baseball bat, holding the position for a moment. Then with every fiber in her being, let her arm spring forward.

The flame was hurled into the nearest cluster of fir trees, shaking off the collective snow and burning at exposed branches and bark.

_Perfect_, she thought, the smirk growing deviously on her face. She wheeled back around to try the trick on the opposite firs. Perfection to her was never enough.

"Corinthia!" the shrill, accented female voice snapped the girl's attention away from her next blast tactic. She gave a heavy sigh and grimaced in annoyance, knowing exactly who was calling her name and what it was about.

Corinthia turned again to find herself facing the stern glare of a much older woman. She stood a head shorter then the pink-haired teenager, in a long, decorative light purple robe, like those that royal officials would wear for meetings. Her hair was light red, and pulled up into two, tight buns on either side of her head. Her face was smooth and looked much younger then the woman actually was, with dark eyes to contrast it.

"Corinthia!" she barked again, approaching with surprising speed, her skirts clutched in tight fists as she lifted them away from her feet. "You know you're not supposed to practice out here!"

The pink haired girl scoffed. "Relax, Miss Agondi, no one saw."

Agondi shook her head, causing her strangely styled hair to bounce amusingly, Corinthia would've laughed had the situation not been so serious.

"Not risking it," stated the older woman, "now gather your things and get back inside."

"But-" started the teenager.

"Now Corinthaluala Remari Meverto!"

Full name. Never a good sign. But this wasn't fair!

Grudgingly, the young woman grabbed her staff and stomped off into the snowy forest, with her elder following closely.

"Gemira contro dev ayla," Corinthia muttered softly through tight lips, that didn't stop Angoni from hearing. Her stern glare returned to the teenager.

"Watch the language, young lady!" she said warningly.

Corinthia just rolled her eyes and sighed, speeding up her pace as to escape the scolding.

--

The drive to school was quiet for Kim, and it wasn't just because Monique had chosen to walk. The teen hero herself was very deep in thought, still trying place we she'd seen this escaped criminal before. And it wasn't like the way she recognized Drakken or Monkey Fist, it was distant and faded, like an aged photograph inside her head. The memories of that face were there, but fuzzy and forgotten with time.

That was what really bothered Kim about it, the fact that she couldn't remember a thing about this woman, yet she felt so familiar...

It was a little strange to say the least.

"Hey K.P!" The high pitched voice was promptly followed by three taps against her window.

Kim was pulled back into reality and looked around. She had somehow managed to get herself into the school parking lot without noticing, pulled up and stopped in her normal spot next to Ron's scooter, and speaking of her boyfriend...

"Kim, are you gonna get out of the car or what?" Ron repeated himself for the fifth time in the last ten minutes he'd spent trying to get his girlfriend's attention, he watched her with perplexed eyes.

Kim's face turned a shade redder then her hair in realization, and she quickly let go of the steering wheel. Her palms were sweaty and sore from clasping so hard. She quickly removed her seatbelt, grabbed up her backpack, and swung open the car door.

Sliding out, Kim quietly massaged her hands as she began following Ron onto the sidewalk.

"What was up with the zone out, Kim?" Ron asked in confusion.

The young redhead looked down as she slid the straps of her brown bag over her shoulders, unsure how to answer him or explain herself.

"Just thinking, I guess," she muttered, her eyes never veering from the concrete. "Did you watch the news this morning?"

"Nah, The Flippies are on at that time," he answered plainly.

Kim suddenly looked back at him, arching an eyebrow with question. The blonde teenager caught it quickly.

"Er... for Hana to watch," Ron added, to his defense.

His girlfriend smiled. "Never mind then. There was just an interesting report on this morning, some criminal escaped prison in Go City."

"Drakken? Duff Kiligan? Monkey Fist?"

Kim shook her head. "Female, and not one of our villains. Not even a villain, as far as I know," her tone became softer with each word.

"So what's the big deal?" Ron asked carelessly, shrugging. "Does Team Go need our help with her?"

"No, they haven't called," she answered, grabbing her left shoulder strap with both hands as her eyes sank back to the ground, "but something keeps bugging me about it. The escapee... she looked so... familiar, and not like one of our villains are. It was... deeper." There was a cloud of distance in Kim's eyes again, and Ron seemed to notice.

He lowered his head, trying to see her confused expression a little more clearly. "K.P, you okay?"

She sighed heavily. "I don't know, Ron. It feels like... I've forgotten something, and I hate the idea of it, because something inside..." she gestured at her heart for effect, "tells me that it's important. Does that make any sense?" Her eyes met his, and instantly, Ron could tell that she was asking for his honest opinion.

"I guess, Kim. I didn't see her, so I couldn't tell you," Ron stated, shrugging again.

The young woman breathed out once more, then straightened herself up. "Well, no point in worrying about it right now." She grabbed Ron by the forearm and started off toward the school doors, regaining her usual bright personality and confidence with unbelievable ease as she dragged her boyfriend behind her.

Ron was almost shocked by the switch, but quickly let it melt into a smile. _Same old Kim, _he thought, _nothing ever bothers her._

But he was dead wrong about her on that subject. Because behind her brilliant smile, the memory of the mysterious woman's face perturbed Kim Possible's mind and sent her on a trip of confusion and wonder, despite the teen hero's every effort to block it out. And out of every question that tangled up inside her, only one repeated...

_Who is she?_

--

Thanks to reviewers Ace Ian Combat, Arya MageFire, Darth Comrade, CMY, and Longsworder. Love you guys!

Oh, and voting for the Fannie Awards has started today. Don't forget my stories when submitting!


	4. Earth, Mind, and Water

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible or any of the characters affiliated with it. I however, own all my characters and this story.

Book II: Chapter III: Earth, Mind, and Water.

* * *

The food chain was predominant in Middleton High, and it showed vastly.

At the top, you had jocks, cheerleaders, the rich, and the general cool kids who really did nothing in particular. From there, everything went downhill. Weirdos, goths, geeks, nerds, dweebs, new kids, and of course, the average students, all fell in either the middle or bottom of the viscous list.

Nothing any different from any other high school, they all worked in the same way. Obsessed with who's the best dressed and who's having sex, and well, you know the rest of the song and dance.

But unlike most of her fellow cheerleaders, Jessica Mandel refused to follow food chain rules.

It wasn't her fault really, she'd never fit in real good. Ever since she was little girl, she could never form herself to any cookie cutter image, and no one saw her for what she was. Too pretty to be considered smart, and too smart to be considered popular, she played to the in-between group, and believe you me, that wasn't a very crowded field.

But Jessica felt no love lost from this, if anything, she was glad that she kinda faded into the background after cheerleading was said and done. Made her life a heck of a lot easier for sure!

Turning another corner in the school's hallway, she approached her locker quietly, her tall form gracefully moving with every step. It was a miracle she'd managed to escape Bonnie and the rest of her cronies. It always seemed that out of the cheerleading squad, only she, Kim, and Tara had some sense of individually. She never liked Bonnie much, and often distanced herself from the vile girl, but sometimes there was just no stopping Rockwaller from grouping everyone together, for everything. It was like a power she had over them.

_Well, she is a witch, _Jessica thought jokingly, snickering under her breath as her locker came ever closer. She composed herself and raised a hand to turn the combination lock.

But before her fingers even touched it, the small knob began twisting on its own, stopping several times at the correct numbers before the locker door made a popping sound and swung open with a ghostly creaking.

Jessica stood, legs suddenly frozen as her expression twisted into a state of confusion. She stared at her raised hand, then drew it closer as if to examine her fingers farther. What had just happened?

"Hey Jessica," the familiar voice of her cheerleading captain pulled the teenager out of her blurred trance. She looked up and met the faint smile of Kim Possible, and even with her own dizzying thoughts, Jessica could immediately tell that something was bothering the girl.

"Oh, hey," replied the blonde nervously, unsure how to answer. Had Kim seen what had happened?

The redhead quickly opened her own locker and grabbed a few books out of it, then slammed the metal door shut again.

"Late for class. See you at cheerleading this afternoon!" Kim shouted back, pressing the books to her chest with one hand, and waving back with the other as she raced down the hallway. Even from a distance, the teen hero seemed perturbed.

"Um… bye," Jessica muttered belatedly, softly waving goodbye as a look of bewilderment crossed her face. Strange behavior, especially for Kim, but it seemed that she hadn't noticed the locker open by itself, so there really wasn't much to worry on. _Let's hope I'm right about that, _she thought.

At last, she returned to the task she'd originally intended on doing, and walked over to her open locker. Pushing her way through several math and history books, she grabbed an orange text book from the back. She was going to be late for class too, admittedly, and that was the last thing she needed.

The locker mirror caught her reflection, her pretty, blemish-free but freckled face, aquamarine eyes, light blonde, bouncy hair, and tangerine colored blouse, as she emerged with her book, She smiled at her reflection before taking off down the hallway again.

Five steps to the corner, Jessica stopped again, her eyes wide in realization. She quickly turned back, catching sight of her still open locker. _Shoot, _she thought, twisting her mouth around. She didn't have time for this laziness!

Already late and growing frustrated, the blonde could only think of one option. Maybe she could just see if it would work…

She raised her hand, palm upright, her fingers bending like claws.

"_Oretho keta," _the words left her mouth heavy as syrup and whispering as wind, mysterious and cold, and her eyes narrowed to match the phrase.

Slowly, the locker closed itself again, as if an invisible hand was pushing it. There was a faint clicking sound as automatic lock activated, and just like that, the door was like it had been before.

Jessica lowered her arm again, sighing heavily and struggling to keep to her feet. A wave of nausea hit her, but she used her every nerve to fight it back. Regaining some strength, she straightened her back, shaking her head dizzily. Then she stared down at her free hand, her well manicured finger tips glinting in the hall lights.

She was unsure what to make of the events placed before her. Jessica knew she was capable of a lot, but magic was not one of her better talents, or at least… it wasn't _supposed_ to be…

She pulled the hand close to her chest, as if keeping it from doing any farther reality bending, as she began making her quick way to class.

_I've got to ask Mom about this, _she thought as she made a sharp turn in the halls, _hopefully she won't freak_ _out_ too _much..._

* * *

_Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, across vast continents and deep oceans… _

A vibrant sunset had begun to settle over the steep, pointed mountains that surrounded the ancient academy of Yamanouchi, the secret training ground for the art of ninjutsu. Carved many years of ago by their famous founder, the school was home to well-known ninjas such as Ninjella (don't let the name fool you), Jack the Samurai (no relation), and of course, the most famous of all, Sensei.

No one but a select few knew his real name, and it's wasn't like they needed to anyway. Everyone called him by his ninja name, the name he chose when he graduated from Yamanouchi so many, many years before, in honor of his former master, who had taught him from childhood, all the way until he was a young adult, when terrible illness griped the elderly sensei and killed him after months of battle with his heath, mere days before his young student was to gain the title of a real ninja.

Now, many years after that awful loss, _he_ was the teacher, training his own students, running the school just as his own master had.

And like the sensei before him, he had that one trainee whom he knew was destined for greater things.

Master Sensei stood on the porch set right outside the training grounds, leaning coolly against his walking stick as sharp rays of gold, orange, and pink shifted across his unchanging face. His focus undeterred, his eyes unreadable.

Three feet away, the dirt was disturbed constantly by the two pairs of feet, they moved and shifted across ground, each staying inches away from the other.

Training had ended for the day, and everyone had turned in for the night, everyone but two students.

They twisted across the grounds like skilled dancers, kicking and punching at each other with the speed and agility only found in some animals. They almost never touched as they leaped from side to side across the area, gliding in the complex run of motion.

Then suddenly, the larger of the two caught his opponent off guard. Seeing a small opening in the fight, he grabbed the small figured person by the wrist, and flipped her over, sending the teenaged girl sprawling across the ground.

She was rattled, but hardly down for the count. Shaking dirt out of her short, black hair, the teenager sprung back to her feet, launching herself back into the fight.

The boy charged, meeting her in the middle of the battle field and throwing a series of kicks and punches, each of which the girl matched in perfection. It seemed as though her minor slip-up had charged her to do better, to move faster, and to fight harder.

And the way she mirrored his speed and agility worried the boy, just enough that he became distracted from his movements, if for a second. That was all the time the girl needed.

She ducked under a wild punch, then twisted her body as she lifted back up, sending her left foot into the young man's chest.

He flew across the grounds, stunned by strength the kick, and landed with a grunt at least four feet from where he had originally stood.

Trying to regain his senses, he lay flat on his back, breathing heavily. And through blurring eyes; he saw his female opponent approach him with her hands on her hips, wearing a smile that betrayed her hidden pride.

"It seems that you have let your arrogance guide your abilities, Hirotaka, as you have finally, as the Americans say, 'slipped up'.

Her snickering comment made Hirotaka smile and knifed at his pride at the same time. "Who's to say I did not let you win, Yori," he replied, attempting to stand.

The girl quickly offered her hand to him. Though she may have conquered him in battle, she still had enough curiosity and honor to lend him her help.

Hirotaka took it graciously, getting to his feet and giving Yori a soft smile in thanks. The grin seemed to give away something else, almost a sense of caring towards the girl.

The small moment was quickly interrupted as Sensei came to meet them on the ground, a smile could be found between his facial hairs.

"A great battle indeed. I am very proud of both of you; much has improved within the last year," his words were filled with wisdom and pride. Clearly, he was impressed.

The pair grinned at the comment, then bowed to each other, signifying the end of their match. They quickly turned and also bowed to Master Sensei, who returned the gesture in turn.

"Now," he stated gently, though the strength in his voice never wavered, "the night will fall soon, we must return to our rooms for the evening. I bid you both a goodnight."

"Thank you, Master Sensei," they chorused in unison. They both gave a small nod to the elder before turning around and heading off to their dojo-styled rooms that were set across the grounds.

Suddenly, Sensei's voice broke the silence, surprising the two teenagers and forcing them to turn around.

"Hirotaka," he called in a serious tone, "may I have a word with you, privately?"

The young man nodded soundlessly, then looked to Yori, who suddenly seemed concerned. Sensei almost never left her out of the loop, if he was only telling Hirotaka, it must've been something very important. He was Yamanouchi's finest student, and often a keeper of the school's greatest secrets, the kind that are only shared by those who ran the school. Many suspected him to take Sensei's place, come the time when the aging man passed on like the master before him.

Yori exchanged a glance with Hirotaka, showing her worry with prominence. But he gave her a reassuring smile, as if to say that everything was alright. She seemed to believe him, returned the smile, then continued toward her room.

Hirotaka watched her every move carefully until she had disappeared inside the doorway, the smile unconsciously staying on his face as he did so. It wasn't until Sensei spoke again that he became aware of his actions.

"You've become very fond of her, haven't you?" asked the old man, chuckling lightly.

The ninja was quick to turn back toward his master, wiping the boyish grin from his face as he did so. There was no place for such behavior in his training.

"If by fond, you mean I have grown to like Yori as a friend and sparing partner, then yes, I have," the statement was strong-suited and stubborn, just as Hirotaka always was.

Sensei chuckled again, but did not ague the point . "I see..." there was a momentary break in his speech, like he was thinking, but the elder was quick to end the silence again.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, mystery surrounding the words. Hirotaka knew what he was referring to, regardless of the bluntness.

"She is much stronger than last year," he answered slowly, thinking about the sparing match and what he had been told to take note of in Yori's fighting, "faster too, and there is something very different in her eyes when she fights, something... wild."

Yes, wild. That was how he would describe it. An almost animal-like fire to her when she went against him, or anyone for that matter. Lately, there was something... different about Yori. There had always been something different about her, but these past few months had revealed a new side to the girl. Was she even aware of it? Not likely. Whatever he had seen, it was most likely a change she wouldn't notice until later.

Hirotaka broke his train of thought and spoke again. "So, what does it mean?"

Sensei was very quiet for what felt like a long time, in reality, it had only been a few minutes, but to Hirotaka, it felt like forever.

But soon after the time had dripped on past three minutes, Sensei finally spoke, his words silent and filled with thought. They seemed to echo off the very mountains that surrounded them

"It means... that the time has come."

* * *

_It's official this time, _she thought, _I hate high school._

Actually she had made it official in her mind two weeks ago, on the first day of school, when her mother had pulled up to the steps of Go City High, dropped her daughter off, and wished her good luck. Just as the girl was watching the car drive around the block, a certain senior jock, whose name shall remain unsaid, took great pleasure in throwing a football right into the back of the girl's head, laughing as she stumbled forward, her book bag dropping from her hands and spilling its contents onto the sidewalk.

Yes, then she had _started_ to hate high school, but now… oh, now it was truly certified hatred.

Everything about this school was awful. The teachers, most of whom didn't like her, the other students, _all_ of whom liked her even less, the lunches, which made her miss the time the time father cooked dinner once (the last time he was ever allowed near the stove), and most of all; the hallways.

It seemed like a trivial thing to dislike, it wasn't like the hallway itself had done her any wrong, but it was what _took place_ in the hallway that made her feel so strongly for it.

Everyday, for the past two weeks since she had started attending Go City High, all they did was stare. When she entered, bright and early at seven-thirty in the morning, they all stopped what they were doing, and stared at her. Every eye, student and facility alike, locked on the fourteen-year-old. Some days no one would move, or speak, sometimes they wouldn't even blink.

It was completely and utterly the worst feeling, trekking the hallways in silence, hundreds of eyes watching your every move, like you're a dangerous animal. Because you remind them of something they don't want to have to deal with again…

It was like she didn't look human, she wasn't growing a horn on her head or anything. She looked just like a normal teenager, except for one thing…

She had been met with the familiar gazes this morning when her mother had somewhat hastily brought her to school, but overall, people had gotten over their strange behavior (the principal had made an announcement last week that certain rude behavior, like staring, would result in an immediate punishment. And that had made her _so much_ more popular with the other kids. "Gee, thanks Mom", she remembered thinking sarcastically). The day had been pretty average, the teachers still kept one eye locked on her during classes; the students still whispered gossip about her to each other, and the food still tasted like old shoes and the dried stuff you scrape from the inside of a pot.

But today had been one of her better days she'd thought. That was, until just now, after lunch, as she was gathering her books for history class from her locker, alone in the halls for once. Her thin fingers had coiled around the spine of a red-colored text book when suddenly…

"What's up, freak?"

The words cut through the air like a cutlass, and surprised the girl so much that she jumped while digging in her locker, slamming her head against the metal roof.

She pulled herself back out, rubbing her head as she turned around. It didn't shock her who she saw though, and maybe that was a bad thing.

Another young woman, around the same age, leaned against the opposite lockers, smiling smugly. She was thinly built and tall, her skin was peach-toned, complimenting her bright blue eyes and long, straight, chocolate colored hair well. She wore a long-sleeve, white shirt and horrendously pink skirt, with white sandals to bring the whole outfit together.

She sneered lightly at her young opposite, still rubbing her sore skull. She didn't speak though; she wouldn't give this one the pleasure…

Seeing this, the brown-haired teenager continued. "Oh, that's right, you don't respond to freak," she spoke as though talking about a toddler or a robot. "You prefer Mira, right? And what idiot name's their kid Mira anyway?"

She controlled her temper as every word entered her pounding head. Her name wasn't actually Mira, but Marisa. Marisa Judith Go; that was her full name, but she liked it shortened to just Mira. Uncomplicated, easy to remember… that's how she wanted it, because nothing else in her life could be that way.

The girl continued to prod at Mira as she grabbed up her last book and closed her locker.

"I mean, come on! Was that the only name your dopey parents could come up with?" she pushed on, following the fellow teenager down the hallway. Mira continued ignoring her as she headed off.

"Makes sense though," the girl stated, answering her own question. "If a man isn't smart enough to get a job better than Bueno Nacho, and a woman is stupid enough to _marry_ him, I doubt they could name their own child something decent."

That one had struck a nerve. But she forced down the urge to snap back and focused on getting to class on time.

The other girl was starting to become annoyed. Usually, Mira would've reacted to all this by now. She thought hard, wondering what insults she hadn't used yet.

A wicked little grin appeared on her smooth face suddenly, and she waited until she and Mira were right outside history class before speaking again.

"Besides," she hissed, and Mira rolled her eyes, grabbing the room's doorknob with her free hand, "it's not they would name you anything good anyway, seeing as what _you_ look like."

That did it alright.

Mira's suddenly grip tightened on the doorknob as she turned it. She yanked the door open with all her strength, which may have been more than first thought. She had moved her arm away just in time, before the door slammed into the wall, shattering the glass window that was set it and sending broken shards across the hallway. While the other girl had noticed it, Mira was too mad to even care. She snapped her head back at the brown-haired teenager, dropping her text books into the broken glass as she did so, grabbing the other girl by the shoulders to make sure she'd listen.

"You wanna know something, Crystal? I-"

Whatever inflammatory statement Mira had on her lips, it would never see the light of day. There was a sound, like the clearing of a throat, and both girls turned from each other.

Inside the classroom, several students had leaned from their desks to see what all the commotion was about. And then there was the source of the strange sound; one very angry-looking Mrs. Dover. The history teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms, eyeing the scene, a destroyed classroom door and one disgruntled new student attacking another, as she prepared to call Mira's mother yet again.

"Miss Go, Miss Monterrey, in my classroom. Now."

Crystal gave her rival a venomous smirk, then wiggled free of her grip, running to Mrs. Dover with fake tears streaming, as she explained how Mira had acted so violently towards her for no real reason.

Mira was frozen where she stood, speechless again as she watched the nasty little girl lie her way out of trouble. She knew that anything she said against her word would be ignored, because Crystal was so 'perfect' in every way, while Mira wasn't.

She barely heard what Mrs. Dover said, something about sending her to the principal's office and that she was calling her parents, but she didn't need to hear anyway. This wasn't the first time she had caused trouble here, and most of it was due to other students pushing her over the edge and making her lash out.

Nobody here would believe here anyway, they didn't trust her. They may never trust her, and she didn't blame them.

From out of the corner of her eye, Mira caught a glimpse of her refection in the broken glass. Her gangly, four foot, nine inches tall form, her plain, unfashionable blue jeans, plain white tee shirt, and grey jacket, and her raven, black hair that she kept tied back in a ponytail.

But most of all, she noticed her face, her normal shaped, smooth skinned face. It sounded perfectly acceptable in her mind.

And then she noticed her eyes; her large, naturally lilac colored eyes, their brightness outshining even Crystal's icy orbs.

Then she saw her skin, so pale in its color, you would've sworn she had spent her life in the cold rain. But she wasn't as white as a sheet, no; because there was always that light purple tint in it.

It was this… this look that caused so many to stare in awe and fear, reminded of Go City's darkest day, when one of their heroes, who looked so much like the girl, went rogue, when she did the unthinkable…

It certainly hadn't been the teenager's doing, and being related to the offender hadn't meant anything… not until now.

But Mira guessed this was what she should've expected when she had been told she was the only niece of the one they called Shego.

* * *

Thanks to Darth Comrade, AIT1, Arya MageFire, Ace Ian Combat, and Longsworder for reviewing!

And thank you to everyone who voted for Scarlet as Best Villain in The Fannie Awards, I didn't win, but hey, there's always next year.

In this chapter, I took a chance to introduce three characters who will have a big impact on this story; Jessica, Yori, and Mira. Their stories, as well as Kim and Ron's, will continue in the coming chapters.


	5. Potential

Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible or the characters affiliated with it. I however, own all my characters and the concept of this story.

--

Chapter 4: Potential.

--

_So many choices, so much time… what should I do first? _

Scarletina, better known amongst her peers and fellow villains as simply Scarlet, sat at a bus stop located on the grimier side of Go City, trying to decide on her next move. Escaping had been one matter, but now the cops were searching high and low for her; there was a serious doubt that she would get out of the city easily. Coming to this side of town had been her only hope; nothing but low life thugs and other super villains slinking around here, they had their own agendas and wouldn't be bothered by the young escapee.

She was pretty unknown by these people anyway, they'd all since forgotten the things she'd done, her crimes, and why they had put her in that God-forsaken asylum in the first place. Ten years was a longer time than she had realized, much longer. And she knew who she had to blame for that…

The betrayal still burned within her, Scarlet could feel it course through her every fiber, but that matter would have to wait for another day. He wasn't anywhere close enough that she could find him; she actually had to wonder if he was even alive still.

A black and blue helicopter passed over the street noisily, lowly swooping over the tall buildings with precision. On its side door, she could see the symbol of the Go City police. Scarlet pulled herself further into the seat, drawing in her legs. She pulled the collar of her leather jacket up, covering her face for good measure.

It was a good minute before the chopper left the area to search elsewhere, and Scarlet was slow to leave her hiding place. Slipping out of the bus stop, she planted her clunky boots to the ground and watched it disappear into the distance, then pulled her collar back down. Couldn't be too careful.

Afraid to stay in one place, Scarlet was quick to take off down the street.

Though she moved in her usual confident strut, she was sure to keep her eyes from making contact with anyone else's. If the police were watching this side of town, that meant she could trust no one, not that she would've anyway.

She let the matter of hiding slide for a moment, and continued wondering on her next move. A lot had changed since she had been locked up, but that didn't change what she wanted; to get revenge, and with quite a few people, not just her old 'friend'.

There had been several who had assisted in her arrest, a couple of whom she still had scores to settle with, and one girl… the one who deserved every punishment Scarlet could throw at her.

_Kim Possible, _she thought with a sickly bitterness, sneering outwardly.

The Possibles had all doneher dirty in the past, but Kimberly Ann was the one she wanted. Stupid, perfect, little brat! She ruined everything! Scarlet had every reason to hate her…

_She's all the way in Middleton, _realized the villainess before she could continue her inner ranting, disappointment sinking in. _And what does that leave?_

She knew she couldn't waste a lot of time playing the revenge card. There was so much she had to get done, so much was needed to prepare. If Scarlet was ever going to finish, she might have to put a few petty, personal endeavors on hold.

She smirked at the thought of her ingenious plan, one that was paved for her by her traitorous partner. Now it was she who continued and perfected it, alone. Almost her way of getting back at him, she supposed, like killing two birds with one stone.

As she pondered on her past crimes, and those she had planned for later, her step never wavered as she turned a corner into a less criminal-filled, more business district-like street. She took care to keep herself as conspicuous as possible, but at the same point, making a rather good spectacle to several passersby, most of whom were men.

It was a hard thing to ignore, the dark radiance of Scarletina as she strutted across the middle of the street, villain or no. She had buttoned up a stylish coat over her trademark cat-suit and cape, covering everything but her gloves, and pulled her auburn hair back down, making her harder to be recognized. The cops were looking for a fabulously dressed villainess, not a… well, she hadn't figured out her alias just yet, but at this point, Scarlet was just glad she had made it through the night without capture.

"Hey, baby, you lost or somethin'?"

The voice came from the sidewalk, harboring a thick New York accent (not uncommon for Go-Citizens).

Scarlet, truthfully praying it wasn't a cop, stopped in her tracks and cast a small glance toward the source of the voice.

Much to her relief (and slight chagrin), it was nothing more than a simple newspaper vender, sitting behind a table covered in the latest edition of the _Go City Gazette_. The man had tussled, dark brown hair, badly hidden under a green and white baseball cap, advertising the Go City Leprechauns.

By the looks of his matching lettermen jacket and his shamefully cut beard and sideburns, Scarlet could immediately tell that he was one of those local baseball junkies (fans in Go City have a tendency to grow beards so they look more like the team's mascot).

It was also more than apparent that he was trying to hit on her.

The redhead turned to him with the fakest smile she could muster, trying to seem polite.

"Sorry, no. Just looking around, I haven't been in town in awhile," the words came out far more venomous and sarcastic than she consciously intended, but the vender didn't seem to pay attention to it.

"I could show you around, if you wanted," he pressed on, now wiggling his eyebrows in a fashion that made the villainess suddenly wish there was a nearby set of active train tacks, so she could tie her harasser onto them.

Scarlet, quickly becoming fed up, grabbed the sides of the vender's table violently, shaking the stacks of newspaper and digging claw marks into the wooden corners, all while keeping on a sweet but rather tight smile.

"Thanks, but no thanks," she said, speaking through her teeth and hissing at the end of every "thanks".

For a moment, it seemed like Scarlet would proceed to strangle the annoying business man. At least, that was what she had planned, had it not been for one thing.

In her growing rage, Scarlet had managed to glance down at one of the newspapers. Just a quick look out of the corner of her eye. At first, it seemed like nothing to the villainess, but then she took another glance, just to be sure.

_It can't be, _she thought numbly.

Suddenly slack-jawed and wide-eyed, the young woman quickly let go of the table and picked up one of the papers, scanning the first page profusely with her back turned to the vender. He was busy restacking his merchandise and seemed rather unperturbed by the girl's behavior.

Scarlet's breath went short as she speedily looked over the headline, still in a bit of a haze. She had to get the full story on this… but remembering her current situation, knew she couldn't stay in this area for long. The cops would most certainly find her here.

Not bothering to turn around, she spoke to the vender over her shoulder. "How much for this newspaper?"

The man looked to her, passively continuing to organize the papers. Had Scarlet been looking at him, she might've seen the sly smile appear on his face.

"Three-fifty," he answered, his voice giving way to a certain haughtiness, "but today, I'm feeling generous, so free, for _a kiss_, that is."

It seemed like a very long, agonizing minute before Scarlet actually turned around; and when she did, the vender, with his lips still puckered, immediately wished he take back what he had said.

The look she gave him was somewhere between a glare and an evil smirk. It was surprisingly sexy to him at first, but whatever attraction he had toward her quickly faded when he saw the look in her eyes, and when he noticed for the first time what color they were.

"Or… we could just stick with the three dollars…" rasped the man, trying to keep his fear at bay as he suddenly took recognition to the woman.

…

It was precisely ten minutes later that Scarlet exited the business district with a rolled newspaper clutched in her right hand, her strut continuing as though nothing had happened.

In truth, it felt quite good to strike fear into people like that once again, there was a certain rush that she got out of their panic, very different than freaking out heroes too. Pedestrians were just so easy to terrorize.

She causally stepped onto the sidewalk and, making sure there was no one else to bother her, quickly opened her paper and began carefully reading the front page.

She read the article once, then twice, and finally a third time, before pulling her face away, revealing a wicked smile.

_It's mine, _she thought, looking at picture in the article, _it's all mine._

She lowered the paper, carelessly refusing to roll it back up as she held it in one hand. The horrid smile remained as she continued down the sidewalk, not caring what people thought as she passed them by.

From her hand though, many could read the paper that had left her in such a good mood. They could see the colored picture of a strangely cut, but beautiful ruby, and caught a glance at the headline; **Jimmy Ding Acquires Rare Gem from Museum in Million Dollar Deal; Throws Celebratory Party in Honor of His Prize.**

--

_Middleton, Tri-City Area, Colorado._

All was quiet in the Possible house when Anne and James got back in from work that afternoon, and it wasn't a normal quiet either, not the kind they expected when the kids were at school.

No, this quiet had a certain eerie quality to it, almost deafening, and neither adult seemed intent on breaking it. They had spent the drive home in similar silence, simply staying in their own worrisome thoughts.

As Mrs. Possible slipped through the front door and flipped on the first of the lights, she stole a quick glance at her husband, who was coming up the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, not daring to lock eyes with her. He still seemed too wrapped up in his own mind to begin the conversation that he had spent so long preparing for.

Nevertheless, Anne also found herself at a loss for words, and really she had spent the whole day like that. Soundlessly running through work, almost robotically, running over the morning's events inside her brain while surgically working on another's (praise the woman who is able to do brain surgery while so distracted). It had been a long, harsh day on her, and she knew that it was not done.

James' day had progressed in a similar fashion, though more mistake-filled. Being the absent-minded man that he was, he had managed to accidentally launch two rockets before lunchtime, also very distracted due to the morning before. He'd had to explain at least one of these embarrassing slips to military leaders. It wasn't first time this had happened, but surely, it made the day no easier.

As he entered the house_, _James emitted a rather loud sigh, which made Anne look at him as she closed the door back. Her gaze stayed on him as he trudged to the living room and sank into his chair, refusing to turn on the lights. She thought to follow him at first, but then changed her mind upon remembering something that might helpease his tensions.

Mr. Possible sat in the dark, thoughtful and tired, watching a blackened TV screen from across the room as he tried to sort his thoughts.

In a way, he had always known this would happen, since he had learned the truth from Anne so many years ago, right after she had announced her first pregnancy.

But never had he felt so unprepared for it, never in his whole life. Ever since the fallout years ago, all this had been completely drained from the Possible household, leaving them to live out their lives as normal people for once, to raise their daughter and two sons to be normal people... well, within reason.

Anne suddenly entered the living room after what felt like foreverto them both. Coming from behind James, she moved to the couch, her hands cupped together, small flashes of golden light leaked through her fingers, giving away the fact that she holding something.

Upon seating herself opposite of her husband, Anne placed her clinched fingers in her lap and proceeded to open them.

The golden light suddenly spread throughout the room, devouring all darkness that filled the room in one swoop. The brightness left both of them temporarily blinded, but quickly, this wore off, and they both looked to the object that had produced the glow, now floating just above Anne's lap.

It was the amulet, the one she had fished out of her vanity that evening before, shining as brightly as before, if not brighter. The one difference was that instead of a simple ball, it had developed a small golden ring around it, like the hoops that surround the colder, farther planets in our solar system. The small ring glittered lightly; spinning over the center of the ball as it hovered, defying gravity in a way that would terrify most people.

Anne, however, remained calm. She stood and guided the orb with her hands, making it float higher up, toward the center of the room. James' eyes never wavered from the object that he was so unfortunately familiar with.

Anne's expression never changed as she spoke. "You see? The Orb has reactivated. The last time this thing came to life was seventeen years ago, and it can't be a coincidence that it started again today."

James nodded, not daring to speak.

His wife quickly lowered the orb, locking eyes with him. "But you still don't accept it, do you?"

"I don't think I ever could, Anne," his answer came much quicker than expected, so much so that Anne almost covered her trinket entirely in her bluntness to answer him.

"But, James," she stated, "you know what will happen if-"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted, silencing his wife. He sighed heavily before speaking again. "But you cannot possibly hope that I would agree with such a risk. If things happen the way we think they will, there is a chance that we'd lose Kimmie."

Anne nodded somberly, looking at the Orb with distance in her eyes. "A chance we have no choice in taking."

The calmness in the statement sent James for a loop. "I will not throw myself into the fire again, or have you completely forgotten about Jenny?"

Mrs. Possible took a moment before answering this time. "I haven't forgotten, but it will be different this time! Kim is nothing her si-!"

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!"

The teenager's voice was accompanied by the sound of the front door opening, and footsteps coming into the foray.

_Kim, _they both thought. Suddenly frantic, the couple raced to return the room to normal. James flicked on the lights, and Anne, ever quicker, stifled the Orb's light by shoving it inside her coat.

The last of the gold beams disappeared just as their daughter entered the living room, her boyfriend at her side. Both wore perplexed expressions when they saw the Possible parents standing in the middle of the room, trying their best to look neutral.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Ron broke it.

"So," he started, holding the last letter in the word for some time, "what's up?"

"Just talking,"

"Watching TV,"

James and Anne spoke their differing excuses at the same time, farther deepening the confusion that had settled in the teenager's mind.

Another space of awkward silence… then Kim got a strange look on her face, one that went unnoticed by the boy standing next to her, but certainly caught the eyes of her parents. They betrayed no shock, but both watched their daughter more intently when she finally spoke.

"Well, Ron and I are just going to go into the kitchen then." She smiled unconvincingly, edging her way toward the hall again. She grabbed her boyfriend by the arm and dragged him along.

The parents watched them vanish behind the corner, then exchanged a worried look.

--

It wasn't until they were inside the kitchen door, and well away from her parents, that Kim let go of her boyfriend's arm. She sat herself in the breakfast nook quickly and lifted her wrist-watch Kimmunicator to her face, leaving Ron to watch her in now profound confusion for a moment, before allowing himself to settle in next to her.

He was about to ask if she knew anything about her parents' behavior (and her own), but no sooner than he opened his mouth, the Kimmunicator chimed.

Kim immediately hit the "answer" button on the machine, leaving Ron with his eyes wide. It was as though she had _known _that would happen, and the way she had suddenly started acting…

"Got anything, Wade?" she asked when her young friend appeared on the screen. Even he seemed to find her behavior a little off, but ignored it promptly.

"Uh… yeah," Wade started. He pulled a long sheet of printer paper off his desk and read over it. "I pulled up all known files on villains we've faced that originated from Go City, but none matched this escapee. In fact, _all_ her files are missing; state records, prison records… gone."

The red-haired girl shook her head. "No, that can't be right… keep looking, Wade. There's got to be something on this girl _somewhere_."

"Can do, Kim," he said, nodding. He put the printer paper back down before speaking again. "Just out of curiosity; why the sudden interest in one of Team Go's cases?"

Kim had to think for a minute before she answered. "Just call it a thing of personal interest."

Again, Wade nodded, but this time, showed a little more concern. For all the years he had known her, Kim never got in other heroes' business unless she was needed. This was a simple prison break-out; nothing Team Go couldn't handle… so what made this case so special to her?

A thought for another time, he supposed. Right now, he didn't have enough information to question the teenager on her motives.

"Well, I'll update you if I find anything," the boy stated, masking his worry with skill.

"Good enough. Thanks, Wade!"

Ron, who had remained silent throughout the exchange between his young friend and girlfriend, finally spoke when the Kimmunicator switched off.

"KP, you're _still_ going on about this escapee?" the question came off a bit more rude than he'd intended, but he didn't have time to change his phrasing before Kim shot him a dirty look.

"I need answers, Ron," she stated in a clam way that deeply contrasted her expression, "I need to know where I've seen this… Scarletina."

"But-" Ron suddenly stopped, letting his girlfriend's words sink in. "Wait… since when did you know her name? Wade didn't even tell you that!"

The redhead shrugged passively. "I dunno, I just… knew it, I guess. Must've heard it on the news this morning."

But she hadn't. Somehow, Ron knew she hadn't, and this coupled with her behavior before Wade had called… something wasn't right. He looked back at Kim with careful worry, and she smiled at him, clearly unaware of this, before moving out of the breakfast nook on the other side.

And Ron swore that when she smiled, if for a second, he saw her eyes flash the brightest shade of yellow he had ever seen.

Unbeknownst to both of them, the Possible parents were watching from the hallway, with Anne trying hard to hide the Orb as its golden light strengthened and shimmered through her coat.

--

The sickly darkness and cold air that lurked the backs of the school hallways had seeped down into the threads of Mira's polyester jacket, forcing her to pull it closer and shiver despite herself. From the bench outside the principal's office, she shielded herself from the chill and watched the flicker of a dulling light bulb inside one of the various lighting systems that loomed over her.

Surely the scene was dark, but also something Mira had become accustomed to. Those late hours spent with one or both of her parents in the principal's office, explaining what had happened and how it really wasn't her fault… doing this had become almost normal to her in the short time she had spent in high school.

She wasn't sure whether it was she who couldn't adapt, or the other students who made it harder for her to do so, but either way, things really weren't working.

From where she was, she could hear the discussion taking place inside the office. Mrs. Dover's edged anger over the broken door, Principal Warren's exasperation over another session about Mira Go, and finally, her mother's unusually begging voice as she pleaded both school faculty members to understand the situation.

Mom was a woman of pride and dignity, she never begged for anything. But her eldest child had become the exception, and in a way, that made Mira feel worse about herself; just another problem in the family, forcing everyone else to hurt themselves for her sake. Sometimes she really wondered if she was worth the burden she caused.

It was hard to say how much time passed before the talking finally stopped, or how long it took Mira to notice. But when she did, it wasn't long after that before the silence was broken by the sound of the office door opening. The black-haired girl sank back into her seat quietly, shyly moving her eyes to the floor as she waited to hear Warren's voice telling her how long she was expelled.

"Mira…"

The voice was female, which automatically told her it was not her principal. There was also a thick British accent that accompanied the voice, and that certainly left out her history teacher.

She looked up, and felt her spirits rise, if a little.

Standing before her was a tall woman, with tresses of light blonde, straight hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and eyes the color of the sky at mid-day. Her skin was pale peach color, and her form was thin but curved, only to be complimented by the navy blue, knee high, business dress she wore. However proud she was of her beauty, it was interesting to note that she kept her look simple; no heavy makeup, no accessories, and no jewelry.

Mira let a smile slip past her heavy mood, but the disappointed look on the woman's face told her that now was not the time.

"Mom, I-"

But Rebecca Go wouldn't hear a word of it. "Come along, Mira."

--

Ten minutes later, the teenager let her heaviness continue to wash over her as she watched the bottoms of skyscrapers and evening traffic pass before eyes from her slumped position in the passenger seat of her mother's car.

Her black hair fell messier than usual as she ran her fingers through it, other hand holding her face up. She wasn't sure if this was better than the hallway or worse. It sure felt colder, and that wasn't just because the A/C had been turned up.

She dared not look at her mother, fearing the icy glare she'd receive. Her parents may have bailed her out, but they were never happy about doing it. Even her brother never got in this much trouble at school, and he was eight years old.

Clutching the steering wheel, Rebecca held a lifeless expression that told those who knew her that she was displeased. There were words on her lips, Mira could sense them coming; she was just forming the right way to say them.

She was smarter than the glamorous look would lead you to believe, _much _smarter. From what Mira knew, her mother had been a designated genius since her childhood, when she was growing up to a wealthy British family who afforded her the best education they could find alongside an aunt and uncle which the teenager had never met.

She knew little of Mom's side of the family; just that Rebecca had spent most of her youth living in the family manor in London, England, living with her two parents and two siblings, before moving to America at nineteen in a chase for a carrier as a scientist for something called "Project Lillith".

_And that was how she met Dad_, recollected Mira.

Of the bit and pieces she knew about her outer family in the UK, she had only recently heard news on her Uncle Rupert, who had called his younger sister to inform her of his big transfer to Leeds (Rupert was CEO of some big company over there, she didn't recall which one), but contact had never come from either of her grandparents or the older sister, a woman called Victoria. This often left Mira wondering if they weren't dead or something. And what annoyed her even more was that Mom wouldn't speak a word of her family, even if asked.

"I'm surprised at you, Mira."

Her mother's refined accent broke the teenager's wondering thoughts, but she barely glanced at the blonde woman, her humiliation sinking in again.

Rebecca never took her eyes off the road as she continued scolding her daughter. "This is the third time since the beginning of this school year that either your father or I have had to come down and talk to the principal. And frankly, we expect better. I mean, picking fights between classes, breaking doors… you know how dangerous-"

The teenager could take no more.

"It's not my fault, Mom!" Mira snapped, turning away from the window.

"Really?" questioned the woman. It was more curious than condescending. "Then whose fault is it exactly?"

The raven-haired girl chewed on her lip for a moment before answering.

"Everyone's." She huffed and crossed her arms; she knew the blame was all on her this time, but couldn't break through the curtain of pride inside her head to make herself admit her fault.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow before returning her eyes to the road.

"Everyone, Mira? Come now, you can't honestly-"

"But it is, Mom!" She was snapping again. She couldn't root where her anger was coming from, and she really didn't care. "My classmates, my teachers... no one gets what I'm going through!"

"It's perfectly normal to feel that way at this..." The mother looked back just in time to catch her daughter's distant stare.

Mira breathed out heavily and hugged herself. "Don't pretend like I'm a normal kid, because I'm not. You've never understood what it's like to be-"

She cut off when she realized that she had overstepped the line. Her mother recoiled, unable to respond for a moment. The look in Rebecca's eyes, one that mixed of sadness and confusion, made the teenager stray her gaze away, feeling guilty. For the first time, she noted that they had stopped at a red light.

The blonde woman sighed and looked forward again, lightly drumming her fingers at the wheel.

"We need to pick your father at the Tower," Rebecca began with a much calmer tone, hoping to change the subject. "He couldn't get a ride from any-"

There was a sound of a car door opening and closing. She looked to the passenger seat, hoping for some human connection with her child. But she only found it empty of both Mira and her belongings.

Looking out the window, she saw the teenager heading up the sidewalk by herself, backpack slung over one shoulder. She never once bothered looking back.

Rebecca shook her head in disbelief but turned her attention back to driving, ignoring the urge of going after her daughter. This was the third time Mira had left the car that way, and punishing her hadn't deterred the girl from causing trouble since she was five.

_If only she would tell me why, _pondered the woman as the light went green. She hit the gas, catching sight of her child in the rear-view mirror as she passed her by.

_She's such a smart girl. So much potential... why act this way?_

--

Thanks to reviewers Darth Comrade, Longsworder, Ace Ian Combat, and Arya MageFire!

So, three updates in a week… I call that progress!

Next Chapter: The lives of Mira, Yori, and Jessica are changed forever. Scarlet begins again. Plus, what's going on with Kim exactly?


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